


How Did it End Up Like This?

by FallenAngelWorks



Series: Mr. Brightside [2]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cheaters Never Prosper, Izaya's a fucking mess, M/M, Part 2 my friends, Porn with a lot of feels, Shizuo's hurtin, THis one kind of hurt me, how'm i doin?, let me know if I missed something, no beta we die like men, sorry Izaya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenAngelWorks/pseuds/FallenAngelWorks
Summary: Its been three years and Shizuo is still pining after Izaya. How did everything get so fucked and turned upside down? Oh yeah. He cheated.
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya
Series: Mr. Brightside [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569430
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	How Did it End Up Like This?

_It was always so warm in moments like these._ When Shizuo was caught somewhere between sleep and awareness, when his mind could trick him into believing that he wasn’t lying in bed alone. The illusion would break the moment Shizuo’s eyes would open, and he’d be left staring at a white ceiling, sweat broken out on his forehead as his mind was ravaged by another tantalizing dream. _Dreams of **him**. _Two years had been spent in glorious peace and tranquility, and with the time it took to rack up a papercut, _Shizuo had been thrown out._ He couldn’t think on how it happened for very long, else he sacrifice his peace of mind for the day. Shizuo rolled out of bed and trudged through his tiny apartment searching for clean clothes to go to work, Tom would kill him if he was late again.

Shizuo did his best to simply avoid being put in stressful situations these days, though his work wasn’t exactly what you would call _stress free._ He collected debt, flexed a muscle or two to intimidate the worthless sacks of shit that had borrowed more money than they could pay back. He did his best though, and over the years he really had gotten a better hold on his anger. _He had been broken._ He lost the ability to _be_ angry for a little while, while soft emotions and affection had been showered on him freely, and now he was lost and alone again. Seeking comfort where none would be found. He longed deeply for the person that had given him that reprieve, yet knew that it was a fruitless hope. _He was long gone._

It had been sweet while it lasted, Shizuo had made a home there in his apartment, found that his double mattress was far too small now that he had spent so long sleeping on a king, a warm body curled close to his own. Shared showers, meals, relaxation time. Shizuo had lived in absolute _bliss,_ and then it had all be ripped away. He was in a mood today, the sting fresh and the wound left behind reeking of illness and rot. It hadn’t ever really healed, Shizuo wasn’t entirely sure it ever would. Tom seemed to pick up on his conflict as they sat and had lunch, and Shizuo raised his head to ask him to _leave it_ when Tom’s eyes widened comically.

“What’s wrong with your face?”

 _“I think I would be the cause.”_ Shizuo felt his spine spark with lightning and he sat stick straight before he turned to catch sight of the owner of that voice, not that he would ever need to look to know it was _him._ Izaya was standing there behind him, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he leered down at Shizuo, dark intent hiding there in the depths of his eyes. Shizuo swallowed and tried to force up heat like he usually did when confronted with the brunet. Instead the anger died on his tongue and he turned back around, pulled his wallet from his pocket, and paid for his meal before standing and stepping away. Tom called after him, and the syncopated steps behind him— _he was skipping—_ told Shizuo that Izaya was pursuing.

“Oh come on now Shizuo! It’s rude to walk away from a conversation.”

 _“I have nothing to say to you, so it wouldn’t be much of a conversation._ Leave me alone, go be a shit disturber somewhere else, _I’m working.”_ Shizuo picked up the pace, though he knew it really wouldn’t be a challenge for Izaya to keep up, they had spent years chasing each other, spent a couple in captivity, and then Izaya decided he _hated_ the feeling of belonging. Shizuo could feel hurt rise up in his throat tasting of bile, and for a moment he thought he might be sick as he stopped and turned on the spot to snap at Izaya. Before he could utter a word, soft lips collided with his own, a brief brush that had Shizuo’s brain short-circuiting. Izaya flashed him a soft smile as he stepped further into Shizuo’s personal space. Shizuo backed away, right into a light pole— _and a feeling of deija-vu hit him._ Izaya plastered himself to Shizuo’s front, and his eyes darted away, trying to catch sight of _anything_ that wasn’t _Izaya._

 _“I miss you Atsushi.”_ Izaya’s had let a whine leak into his voice, and Shizuo wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it, or with the utterance of Izaya’s _personal_ nickname for him. _With the obvious want hidden in there._ Izaya was looking at Shizuo like a piece of meat, and he had to anchor his hands on Izaya’s shoulders to push the brunet away as anger sparked dangerously. _He didn’t need to force it this time._

“You didn’t _have_ to. _You_ made a choice Izaya, _over three years ago._ You decided, _not me._ Now leave me the fuck alone—I am sick and tired of you popping up whenever you want to mess with me. So knock it off, and find yourself a new victim. _I’m finished.”_ Shizuo shoved at Izaya, watched as shock hit the brunet’s face as he stumbled backwards and landed on his ass. Shizuo sent him one seething look before turning on his heel to go back and find Tom. It wasn’t until late that evening after one too many drinks did Shizuo come to realize that he had made a mistake by being physical with Izaya.

The brunet was waiting on Shizuo’s front step when he arrived home more than a little drunk. Izaya had caught sight of Shizuo first and stood as way of greeting, his features shifting into a severe frown. When Shizuo recognized the blur as Izaya, he turned on his heel, intent on going and finding somewhere quiet and out of the way to sleep off the liquor. Izaya pursued, an indignant squawk leaving him as he chased.

“Your apartment is _right there_ Shizuo, where do you think you’re going?”

 _“Anywhere that is away from you.”_ A hand caught at Shizuo’s wrist, and he tried to yank it free until nails dug deeply into the skin causing a shock of pain.

“I don’t think so. I want to talk, _I have to talk._ Would you give me some time to—to _explain?_ I made a _stupid_ decision, I freely admit that, but you’re not making it easy to _unmake_ my mistake.” Shizuo was forced to look at Izaya, and the brunet’s eyes were glowing that eerier crimson color Shizuo loved deeply. _Had loved deeply, now it just upset him._ He took a deep breath and turned to face Izaya more fully, and when the brunet seemed to be satisfied that Shizuo wouldn’t run he released his hold on him and instead stepped closer to Shizuo, though he paused when Shizuo took a step back. _Normally that wouldn’t have deterred the raven in front of him._ Shizuo took his chance to speak before Izaya found a way to smooth talk Shizuo into coming back, into being his pet again. _Realistically, that’s what he had been._

“I don’t care what you have to say. You can’t un-fuck up. _You fucked up_ , now grow up and live with it. I—I will _not_ be treated like that again, I won’t be there as entertainment for you when life gets boring. I am not a pet you can just throw away when you don’t want me anymore. _I loved you._ I loved you more than _anything_ and you went and proved what I knew the whole time. _That no one could ever love **me**. _So just—just take you and your anarchy somewhere else. _I’m through with you.”_ Shizuo turned to walk away, back towards his apartment thinking that Izaya had gotten the point now, especially with how wide his eyes were currently. Shizuo had firmly put Izaya in his place, made it clear that there was no longer a place in Shizuo’s life for him. He had thrown Shizuo away three years ago, discarded him as if he wasn’t worth anything, as if the previous two years before then hadn’t been _per—_

 _“You used past tense. You said **loved**.” _Shizuo hesitated as he walked away, thinking it strange that Izaya was clarifying. Shizuo turned back around to glare, only to see Izaya’s head bowed, his hair obscuring his face, but Shizuo _recognized_ that look. Izaya’s shoulders were trembling, and his hands were balled tightly into fists at his side. _Izaya was on the verge of tears._ Something in Shizuo’s chest snapped, and he had to make the conscious effort to stay cemented where he was. His instincts were telling him to close the distance between the two of them and comfort Izaya, but that would be giving in, that would be validating Izaya’s horrendous treatment of Shizuo— _and that couldn’t be allowed._

“That’s right. Past tense, meaning _not anymore.”_

 _“Shizuo I still love you! Not loved, **love,** present tense, right now! Y-you can’t just walk away.” _Shizuo felt his heart seize as Izaya raised his head, his eyes bright and angry and full of tears too. Shizuo wanted to both comfort and hurt Izaya. He was looking at Shizuo the way he _used_ to, like Shizuo was the only other person alive, like they were in a world all their own. Izaya used to look at him like that all the time. A little piece of Shizuo, the last piece that remained his and untouched by Izaya, _broke._ Seeing Izaya standing there, emotions a cross between livid, humiliated, and _hopeful,_ the part couldn’t resist giving in to the magnetic pull Izaya had always had on Shizuo. Shizuo squeezed his eyes closed as his drunken haze started to raise and left him filling uncomfortably _empty._

 _“Watch me.”_ He turned to go home, felt Izaya’s presence recede, and let himself into his apartment without being disturbed further. Shizuo spent the night curled up in bed alone, trying to forget the emotions in his chest, how hurt he felt right now, how embarrassed, how messed up. _How did it end up like this?_ He and Izaya had worked _perfectly,_ a tandem unit that moved as a single entity, _like magnets._ Izaya moved, so did Shizuo, mirroring each other and making sure the other was always in arms reach. Shizuo had liked it, _loved_ it, had loved Izaya deeply, honestly, sincerely. Loved him intensely. Shizuo had loved Izaya to a fault, to the point that after they had ended things— _after Shizuo ended things—_ he had needed a therapist. Shizuo was more messed up than he had originally thought, but now he was doing better, and he wasn’t about to sacrifice all his hard work for _Izaya._ Shizuo wasn’t about to let Izaya take hold of his life again. He wasn’t going to sit pretty at home and cook for Izaya when Shizuo knew for a fucking _fact_ that Izaya was out and about _screwing_ other people. _That’s right, that’s how it all happened. Izaya cheated._

Shizuo had gotten home earlier than usual that day, his shift at the bar cut short due to a pretty rowdy fight. It meant he’d have time to go home and make something for dinner before Izaya got back, and maybe see about changing the sheets— _they hadn’t done that this morning like usual._ Shizuo hummed on his way home, thinking that as mundane as things were, he couldn’t have been any happier. Couldn’t have felt more alive. _That was a lie._ Shizuo felt truly alive when he had Izaya in his grip, when he could feel Izaya’s pulse under his fingertips, his lips, the beat of his heart against Shizuo’s a comfort he couldn’t find anywhere else.

Shizuo had tidied up, changed the sheets, donned more comfortable clothes, and gotten a start on dinner when the door to the apartment creaked open. Shizuo called out immediately, turning the burner lower and setting down his spatula as he headed for the door. He got there just in time to catch sight of Izaya hurrying up the steps and down the hall towards their bedroom. _That’s weird._ Izaya was either at the door waiting for Shizuo to get home, or waiting at the door until Shizuo came to retrieve him when _he_ got home. Izaya had never scampered off like that. Shizuo moved up the steps and towards their room, thinking that Izaya might have gotten himself into a spot of trouble at work himself— _Shizuo had never agreed with it, but it kept Izaya busy, and **mostly** out of trouble despite his job **being** trouble. _

“Izaya, hey what’s g—geeze. Hey, come on, what happened? Izaya— _let me in.”_ Their bathroom door had shut the moment Shizuo had entered the bedroom, and the click of the lock had hit his ears too. _Something really must have happened._ Shizuo rattled the doorknob and knocked a few times before Izaya finally responded with a disapproving sound. Shizuo would normally have left him alone, but that sound was one Shizuo _really_ didn’t agree with right now.

“Izaya, _let me in._ You can let me in or I can break the door—come on, we’ve talked about this, don’t shut me out, don’t get quiet on me. You know I love you, I’d do anything for you, _I will do anything for you,_ but you have to let me in.” A few seconds of silence before the lock was twisted out of place and Shizuo admitted himself. Izaya was sitting on the toilet seat, his shoulders hunched up to his ears, hands balled in his lap as he pulled on his fingers, and he refused to raise his face to look at Shizuo. It had been a long time— _probably eight months now—_ since Izaya had looked so distressed. Since he had acted this way, and the time before that was right at the beginning of their relationship. Shizuo moved and knelt down in front of Izaya, reaching to clasp his hands on his cheeks. Izaya jerked at the touch, and after a moment relaxed into it, his eyes glassy and his bottom lip was red and swollen as he had worried it with his teeth.

“Come on _Yukihiko_ , _talk to me._ At least _look_ at me.” Izaya flinched at the use of Shizuo’s given nickname for him, something that often made Izaya blush. _Shizuo liked watching his cheeks color._ Had liked the name too, the reminder of the winter festival they had attended together—of the night that they had both been swept up in short snow storm, and Izaya’s cheeks had been so cold, they had flushed brightly. _Soft and pink._ Now though, Izaya was still refusing eye contact, and he wasn’t trying to kiss Shizuo either, or reach out for him like he normally would. Izaya would seek comfort if it was a bad day, if something hadn’t gone right, he’d seek reassurance. _Now it looked like Izaya was ashamed of something._ After a few more moments of silence Izaya let out a shaky breath, just before he lowered his shoulders and raised his head. It took Shizuo a full minute to realize why Izaya looked so ashamed after stretching himself out. _Until Shizuo saw the bruises._ No, not bruises, _hickeys._ Izaya was sporting a few, of various sizes and shapes, and Shizuo hadn’t marked Izaya so obviously since their first anniversary. He didn’t need the world knowing his business, and Izaya preferred it that way too. _Now however it seemed Izaya had gone and—_ Shizuo stood immediately, fully intending to go and cool off before his anger got the better of him. Izaya reached to grab for him, words suddenly jumping from his previously silent lips.

 _“I’m sorry!_ I swear, _I swear_ it won’t ever happen again! This client of mine was being really pushy and I needed to sweeten the deal a little to get him to agree to all the terms and it—it just went _south. Really fast._ I swear, it won’t ever happen again _Atsushi_. It didn’t go very far, he was just _grabby and sloppy.”_

 _“I can’t be around you right this second._ I—I need to go and finish dinner, and then I’m going to go for a walk—and maybe after that I’ll be able to look at you again.” Shizuo felt like he had been slapped when Izaya used his own nickname for Shizuo, and the brunet’s hands quickly slipped away from Shizuo as he stepped away, clearly understanding a portion of the emotions Shizuo was feeling. Shizuo felt wooden and stiff as he cooked, normally the practice of it was relaxing, calming, and Izaya often sat at the counter to watch Shizuo move about the kitchen. Izaya really _didn’t_ cook, Shizuo was even hesitant to leave him with a pot to watch boil, he got distracted so easily, and was far too impatient, but having him absent from his usual perch did something horrible to Shizuo. After dishing out some food onto a plate for Izaya, and one for himself to be tucked away for later, Shizuo called that dinner was ready, and then moved towards the door to go on that walk. He and Izaya _always_ ate together, but at the moment, Shizuo thought he might just throttle Izaya if he looked at him.

Shizuo wandered aimlessly through town, never stopping anywhere for very long, really needing the physical movement. He was trying to work through what might have possessed Izaya to do such a thing. Izaya was an information broker, there was no reason for him to feel that he needed to—to sell _himself_ to get a good deal. Izaya was clever, extremely intelligent, and suave, he could convince just about anyone that a cat was a chicken as long as the feline clucked. It didn’t add up in Shizuo’s mind, didn’t make sense. Izaya was happy, wasn’t he? He had never expressed any disappointment in Shizuo, was always affectionate in the comfort of their shared home, was complimentary and doting, and Shizuo often came home to unexpected gifts for no other reason than Izaya wanted to give him something. Izaya seemed _happy. So why?_

When Shizuo’s feet started to ache he turned to head home, hopeful that now that he had spent some time trying to puzzle this all out—though he still didn’t have an answer—he might be able to sit down and have a reasonable conversation with Izaya. He’d be able to listen to Izaya explain this time, instead of just catching a few words as he fought through his anger, and he’d be able to at least contemplate forgiving Izaya for the indiscretion. Shizuo had loved his father dearly, had kept the last note he had ever given him before he vanished from sight for another woman. _Shizuo hated cheaters._ Couldn’t understand it. If you weren’t happy with something say so, at least leave a warning, give a sign so that things can change instead of picking up a part of your life and leaving the rest behind. Shizuo had to shake his head as he stopped at the door, hand hesitating over the knob. _He couldn’t walk in feeling angry._ After a few deep breaths Shizuo opened the door and slipped inside. _Maybe he should have taken longer._

Shizuo could see from the door, and every muscle in his body seized. Izaya was on the couch with someone. Not just sitting and talking, no, they were being handsy with each other, obviously well acquainted. Shizuo watched in horror for a moment as Izaya threw his head backwards with a moan and the other person attached their lips to his throat. Izaya keened into the touch, and something in Shizuo snapped. He lost his grip on his keys too, the sound of them hitting the floor just loud enough to capture Izaya’s attention. The brunet paused, eyes darting towards Shizuo. His eyes widened and he started shoving at the person underneath him, but at this point, _it really **didn’t** matter._ Shizuo slipped up the stairs towards his an— _towards the bedroom—_ and closed the door behind himself, twisting the lock into place. He grabbed one of the bags out of the closet, uncaring of who it actually belonged to as he packed his clothes because at one point, everything here and belonged to both of them. _How long had Shizuo been living in happy land while Izaya was out cheating on him? How long did Izaya play him for an idiot and get off on it? How long since Izaya had fallen out of love with him?_ There was a constant bang on the door, Izaya’s voice high and desperate leaking through the wood as Shizuo tried to ignore the sound.

 _“Shizuo! Please, it’s not what it looked like! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, just, **please** , can we talk? Atsushi!” _His nickname struck a chord with him, and Shizuo moved to wrench the door open. Izaya was standing there, both hands braced on the door frame and hair out of place. _His cheeks are splotchy._ It looked like he had been crying.

 ** _“You don’t get to call me that anymore.”_** Shizuo slammed the door again and twisted the lock back into place to finish packing his things. All his clothes had made it inside the bag, and as he wandered about the room trying to decided what else was important enough to take— _he decided his bag was heavy enough at half full._ Izaya had paid for most of the things here, and the majority of Shizuo’s belongings aside from his clothing had been given to him by Izaya. _He didn’t want any of it._ When he opened the door Izaya wasn’t standing there anymore, and Shizuo moved quickly down the stairs, hoping that Izaya would have made himself scarce so Shizuo could leave. He made it to the door and reached for the doorknob only to be stopped by Izaya’s voice. A quite utterances of Shizuo’s name, and he turned to catch sight of him. Izaya was standing in the living room, he entire body looked like he was trembling, and he took a single step forward before stopping, as if unsure if he was allowed to get closer. Shizuo was hurt, and as he stared back at Izaya, he came to a very important conclusion. _He was unloveable._ No one had ever shown interest in him, _except_ for Izaya—and the occasional hooker—and now it was clear that Izaya really _didn’t_ care about him. He had blown smoke right up Shizuo’s ass not two hours before, and then brought whoever he had fooled around with back to their shared apartment, probably the moment Shizuo was gone. _He couldn’t allow Izaya to fuck with him again._ Shizuo turned and opened the door, and left. _He neglected to pick his keys up off the carpet._

The memory left Shizuo feeling rubbed raw. That had been three years ago, that horrible awful night when everything had come crashing down around him, and he _hated_ that Izaya had let him get this far in recovery before seeking him out again. Shizuo hadn’t coped in the healthiest of ways, but therapy and his friendship with both Tom and Celty— _Shinra too, admittedly—_ had helped him. Now Izaya was back, after a three-year absence, _claiming to love him._ Shizuo couldn’t let himself believe it, because as much as it hurt, as much as _seeing_ Izaya had ignited want in him all over again— _he was not an idiot._ Shizuo wouldn’t be played with, he was not someone that got cheated on it.

The following few days Shizuo was lost in the clouds. Memories he had buried washing over him as he and Tom walked the streets. He was distracted, he knew that, but every time he tried to focus, he ended up focusing on _focusing_ and didn’t retain anything Tom was saying. A hand in front of his face forced him to stop, and he turned to see Tom giving him a hopeless look. _It sort of looked like pity._ Shizuo winced as Tom took a breath and opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m worried about you man. I know that seeing Orihara again must have really rattled you, why don’t you take a couple days? I was thinking about picking up another hand any way, I can test out a few while you get some needed down time, and when you come back, the workload will be easier.” Shizuo wanted to protest, wanted to tell Tom that he was fine and that seeing _Orihara_ really hadn’t affected him much, but the words died on his tongue as _liar_ slipped through his head. He raised a hand to scratch at eh back of his neck, worried that even though Tom was saying he was going to come back, he thought this might have just been the last straw with him. Adding another hand? It sounded a little too much like Shizuo was being replaced. Tom shook his head once and gave a humourless chuckle, obviously seeing the conflict on Shizuo’s face.

“Relax, I’m not firing you man. You’re my friend, I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Go home, relax for a couple days, screw your head on a little straighter. I hate seeing you look so low.” Shizuo nodded after a moment and turned to check the street sign to find his way home. Tom waved him off and Shizuo walked away feeling defeated. _He had let Izaya get in his head again._ He wandered home feeling sick, and felt a spark of lightning in his spine when he reached his front door. _That was familiar._ Shizuo reached for the doorknob and twisted it, finding it unlocked. _He wouldn’t dare._ Shizuo pushed the door open and stepped inside, finding a pair of shoes at the door and a coat hanging up that did not belong to him. Shizuo could feel his heart beat faster in his chest, and the electricity had surged up his body and buzzed in his head. Shizuo’s eyes swept the apartment, found no trace of the invading presence, and moved deeper towards his bedroom. Shizuo nearly choked when he slipped into the smaller room.

Izaya was curled up in Shizuo’s bed, sheets and blankets pulled and tucked around him, and Shizuo’s pillow held tightly to his face. He was sleeping, Shizuo could tell from his breathing. It unnerved Shizuo that Izaya had allowed himself into Shizuo’s home so easily. Shizuo also thought that Izaya probably hadn’t accounted for Shizuo to be home right now, and he probably hadn’t meant to fall asleep either. Shizuo stood there in the doorway watching for a few minutes, equal amounts of warm affection and cold fury flooding him. Shizuo hadn’t ever stopped caring for Izaya, was aware enough to know that a part of him would always submit to the brunet currently sleeping in his bed. Another few moments of staring were lost to the memory of Izaya still clear in Shizuo’s mind. _Izaya would roll over soon, having felt he was being stared at, and he would give Shizuo a soft smile before reaching out for him._ Shizuo shook the thought away and turned to leave as quietly as he came. He’d go for a walk, maybe get something to eat, and come back around his usual time. Hopefully then Izaya would be gone, or at least have the sense to leave the apartment and wait outside for Shizuo instead.

When Shizuo came back his apartment was _still_ unlocked, though when he entered Izaya was standing in the living room looking stiff. Shizuo clenched his jaw and hesitated a few seconds in the doorway before toeing off his shoes and slipping towards the kitchen to put his bag of groceries down. He stood with his back turned to Izaya, trying to figure out how much force he was going to have to use to get him to leave. Izaya’s voice startled him.

“I-I’ve sort of been here all day. I was going to leave before you got home— _and couldn’t._ Shizuo— _Atsushi, I miss you.”_ Shizuo flinched, his heart breaking in his chest at the endearment, the nickname Izaya had given him so long ago. The one Shizuo had missed hearing and _despised_ at the same time. _Atsushi—Warm. Izaya had always called him a human furnace._ Shizuo knew that he needed to face this, so that he could move past it, but at the same time the hurt was buried so _deep._ He had packed it away for so long, and now Izaya wanted to dig it up. _Shizuo would let him if it meant he’d go away._ Shizuo turned around after getting his bearings to see Izaya still standing in the living room, he hadn’t moved an inch except to turn to face Shizuo. As Shizuo looked at him, far more sober than the last time, he noticed how rundown Izaya looked. Like he hadn’t been sleeping, or eating, his clothes hung from him. Shizuo tempered the bite he had intended his words to have to something less heated.

“Don’t call me that. If you’re wanting to talk, you _don’t_ get to call me that.” Izaya nodded his head immediately, his throat working to swallow. Shizuo hadn’t ever seen Izaya look this way, so, so sick and unhealthy. Izaya had taken his health very seriously, despite the fact that he used to eat out a lot before Shizuo had lived with him and cooked for him constantly. Now it looked as though Izaya hadn’t been taking care of himself at all, and there was a subtle tremor in him, his entire body quaking gently as though standing up was difficult. Shizuo had to take a breath and turned back around to start pulling his groceries from the bag.

“Sit down before you fall over. I was going to make something to eat, there’s enough for two, you’ll just have to wait for it.” Shizuo could hear Izaya shift and knew he had seated himself like Shizuo had asked of him. It was easy to focus on the task of cooking, easy to lose himself in the work of it as he ignored the presence behind him. When the meal was ready and Shizuo had plated for two, he moved into the living room, extending the bowl towards Izaya. He was staring at his hands until the white ceramic came into view. He reached for it, his fingers brushing against Shizuo’s and tensing for a moment. Izaya looked like he was going to say something, and Shizuo decided he wanted to put this off just a little longer. _This felt a little familiar._ Eating together, they had done that all the time, shared a meal and smooth conversation. _Now it felt stale._

“Eat first. You look starved, you should be taking better care of yourself.” A few moments passed in relative silence, then Izaya’s voice caught in his throat, and the sound of it hit Shizuo’s ear like broken glass. Izaya had taken a few bites out of the stew, and now his fingers were clutching the bowl and spoon so tightly his knuckles were white. It took the nearly frail brunet a minute before he noticed Shizuo was staring. He gave Shizuo a shaky smile, feeble and cold and Shizuo felt a little more broken inside. _He was going to snap wasn’t he. He was going to let a frail looking Izaya be his doom._

“It’s bitter. You made it bitter.”

“Is that not how you like it anymore?”

 _“Just really surprised that you remembered.”_ Shizuo felt a twinge of irritation. He knew he was just being touchy because he _really_ wasn’t interested in having this conversation right now—in fact he could live with _never_ having it—but the implication that Shizuo would have forgotten _anything_ about Izaya hurt. He put his bowl down, suddenly no longer hungry.

“I’m supposed to _forget?_ I-Izaya, _you_ made a choice, _not me._ I loved you, I—”

_“Please don’t say that. Don’t use that tense. Don’t make it sound like you don’t still.”_

_“I don’t.”_ Izaya lifted his head further, and Shizuo saw pain in the depths of Izaya’s eyes. A part of him wanted to give in and comfort him, tell him that he was in fact lying—he was, there was no denying that he still had strong feelings for Izaya—but he couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t let Izaya see the weakness because he would exploit it to the fullest extent. Shizuo took a breath, ordered his thoughts, and got ready to take a dive off the deep end. It wasn’t right to want to wound him, to hurt him until he bled the same way Shizuo had after _that_ night, _but he was going to._ Shizuo steeled his nerves and opened his mouth to speak.

“What do you want me to say Izaya? That I’ve missed you this whole time? That I still want to be with you? You _used_ me, and I still can’t understand why. I gave you everything, whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted it as long as I was able to give it to you. _I **loved** you. I loved you so much it hurt to be away from you. _Clearly you didn’t feel the same when you made the decision to bring that _fuck_ into _our_ home—less than two hours after you _promised_ it wouldn’t happen again. Less than two hours after I had even found out it happened a _first_ time. What am I supposed to do with that Izaya? I couldn’t trust you, _still can’t._ You come back after _three years?_ You’ve had three years to try and apologize, to make this grand declaration of yours that you _miss_ me. You waited three years.

“And you know what the worst part is? If you had come back a year later, maybe even two, I might have still been lovesick enough over you that I would have taken you back. I would have listened to your apologies and your excuses, and I would have kissed you and said that it was alright. _Not today.”_

 _“Stop using that fucking tense!_ Stop it Shizuo, stop making it sound like this doesn’t hurt right now! _I know you!_ I know everything there is to know about—” Shizuo closed the distance between the two of them, clamping a hand over Izaya’s mouth to stop him from speaking, knowing that if he did, he’d find a way to worm into Shizuo’s head. That flare of anger that was _so_ Izaya had lit a flame in Shizuo’s heart for him, had reignited the coals there that hadn’t really stopped burning,

“You don’t know _anything_ about me. Not anymore. Not since you broke my heart. Finish your meal and then get out. I don’t want to see you again Izaya, because I _really_ don’t have anything else to say to you.” Shizuo stood and took his bowl into the kitchen and set it down on the counter before moving towards the sanctity of his bedroom. He was forced to a stop in the doorway by a quiet voice.

“If you don’t wake up at six you feel tired all day. You have to have miso, salmon, white rice, and a glass of milk for breakfast or you can’t call it that, and you brush your teeth before and after you eat. You have eight smokes a day, and when you have a rough one you have twelve and you end it with a cup of nigori sake. You like to do the crossword puzzle in the newspaper in the evenings, right after you read two chapters of whatever mystery novel you got your hands on—you’re always liked the American writer Dan Brown—or after you’ve chewed through a collection of poetry, all in English or French, sometimes Italian. You write music when it rains because you like the way it hits the windows like a metronome, and when you’re finished you bake, bread mostly but sometimes your sweet tooth gets the best of you and you make cookies or cakes.

“You never move in your sleep, just like a rock, and you talk, quiet mumbles about whatever dream your having. When you’d have nightmares, you’d get quiet and restless, and the only way to calm you was to run my hands through your hair. You’d always _know_ when I’d have a bad day and you’d run me a hot bath and make me coffee and rub my shoulders. You’d hum when you were in a good mood, and you’d—” Shizuo could only listen for so long before he had to move again. He was covering Izaya’s mouth with his hand again to stop the words from flowing. Shizuo had to close his eyes as they continued to wash over him, as he realized that he did _all_ those things still. _Izaya did know him, his habits at least, not his heart._ When Shizuo managed to lift his eyelids, Izaya was staring at him, eyes round and wide and teary, and he was trembling again, absolutely _vibrating_ against Shizuo’s hand. Before Shizuo could figure out what it was he was going to say now, what it was he possibly _could_ say, when Izaya raised his hands to grip at Shizuo’s wrist to pull the blond’s palm from his mouth.

 _“I know you Shizuo. A-Atsushi, please—please don’t send me away.”_ Izaya’s voice was low and quiet, and the tone of it hurt Shizuo worse than the original betrayal. Izaya looked as broken as Shizuo still felt, and he was pleading so _sweetly,_ was looking at Shizuo the way he had the first time he had told Shizuo he loved him. His cheeks were flushed the same way they were when Shizuo had come up with his nickname for him— _Yukihiko, my Snow Prince—_ and his lips were bitten red. Shizuo felt his resolve begin to crack, but the doubt in his mind was still present.

“I can’t trust you Izaya, you—I just _can’t,_ not after you—”

 _“It was a job._ It was just a job— _I shouldn’t have taken it but I did and I know I fucked it all up!_ I know that I messed up Shizuo and I know that doesn’t make up for, I know I can’t ever apologize for it but _damnit I fucking need you!_ I can’t function, I can’t eat or sleep or _breathe_ without thinking about you! I can’t stay away anymore, I can’t pretend like— _like I didn’t start dying when you walked out that door.”_ Izaya had stood, bringing himself to his full height, still so much shorter than Shizuo, and he looked furious. He looked like he was on the verge of tears and that just didn’t make sense to Shizuo. Izaya wasn’t an emotional person, even when Shizuo had enjoyed basking in Izaya’s form of affection, it had always been subtle. _It had been like Izaya himself._ Carefully prickly. He was breathing hard, and his hands were twitching at his sides like he was trying to prevent himself from grabbing hold of Shizuo. It was talking all of Shizuo’s concentration to not pull Izaya into him. _He needed, and fuck he was going to regret all of this._ Shizuo stepped into Izaya and dropped his mouth to his, to slide his tongue inside the cavern he had memorized _years_ ago. Izaya whimpered loudly, his hands flying to tangle into Shizuo’s hair and tug him even closer, and Shizuo reached instinctively for Izaya’s waist, to let his fingers tease at the bottom of his ribcage.

 _Shizuo had never hated himself more._ He was giving in to this feeling again, the totality that was Orihara Izaya, and sin had never tasted so sweet, had never felt like salvation the way _this_ did. Shizuo was selling his soul for this singular moment of fulfillment, for the pleasure he had been denied, the wholeness, the complete and utter abandonment. Shizuo was _drowning_ in Izaya, and he never wanted the sensation to stop. _He was going to draw a line though._ Izaya wouldn’t see the inside of his bedroom—at least no more than he had when he had _napped_ in there. _Shizuo was going to have to get a new mattress and sheets._ He turned the both of them until he could fall into the couch, tugging Izaya with him until the brunet was seated in his lap. _This was so familiar._ Izaya was licking at his palate, a touch that Izaya himself liked, and his hands were shifting carefully across Shizuo’s shoulders, as though trying to re-acquaint himself with the way the blond’s muscles moved.

They stripped quickly, and Shizuo had to convince himself it was all just sex. _It was just sex._ He was going to use Izaya, and then force him away. He would indulge just this one time, allow the sweetness that Izaya was offering so freely, and then turn away like Izaya had. Shizuo couldn’t allow Izaya to hurt him again, because he wouldn’t recover a second time. Izaya wasn’t trying to take control like he had before. He was responding to Shizuo’s touches like he never had, and there was a quality to Izaya’s touch right now—so hesitant and unsure—that had Shizuo trembling. _It was too intimate._ Izaya was exploring, as though Shizuo had changed in the time they had been apart, as though Izaya didn’t know _exactly_ how to touch Shizuo, how much pressure, when to ease up, when to abandon restraint. Izaya knew all those things, but he was touching Shizuo as if this was the first time. _Their first time._ Shizuo fell into that passion as he recalled him and Izaya screwing in Shizuo’s first apartment— _that had been love._ Izaya had needed to guide Shizuo though it, having been his first, _but now Shizuo knew better._

_“Izaya—”_

_“Atsushi~ please, anything, anything at all. Anything you want, have me, take everything, I want you to take.”_ Shizuo wanted to take, wanted to be greedy, _but that wasn’t in his nature._ He liked to give, had always been a provider, and it had taken him ages to come to terms with Izaya’s dotage on him when he had moved in with him, hard to accept that Izaya was the breadwinner between them. _He had been dressed in fine clothes and adorned in jewels like a trophy wife would have been._ It sent a flare of anger through Shizuo and he dropped his mouth to bite at the column of Izaya’s throat. To mark him. Shizuo shifted his hands down the length of Izaya’s body until he could press dry fingers at Izaya’s hole. The brunet’s entire body flexed at that first touch and Shizuo’s bit down on his collar to compliment the sensation. Izaya’s hands tightened, and Shizuo raised his hips to add more friction between them. Izaya keened and forced Shizuo’s head upwards to claim his mouth in a slow kiss. Shizuo wanted to demand heat, ferocity, because Izaya was being so _gentle_ it physically _hurt._ The press of Izaya’s mouth was soft, and the pressure almost non-existent, and Shizuo lost himself in that kiss, his mind abandoning him in favor of sensation.

Fingers were sucked on and Izaya couldn’t keep quiet while Shizuo stretched him, and had he been in the right mind at all, Shizuo would have thought about condoms. Instead a firm thrust had him buried to the hilt inside Izaya and the sound of their mingled moan and groan hit Shizuo like a broken memory finally made whole, and it left him _reeling_. _They sounded like music when they were like this. This he remembered vividly._ Izaya’s breath came out stuttered before he asked Shizuo to move, and move he did. Izaya was rolling his hips in his lap, and Shizuo was pulling him down with every upward stroke of his hips. They shared breath, and Shizuo couldn’t remember ever holding eye contact like this after the first time. They had loved each other, deeply, possessively, _completely,_ but sex and love making had never been like _this._

 _“Deeper~ Oh, **fuck** Atsushi, **please** d-deeper!” _Shizuo yielded to the desire, fixed his hands on Izaya’ hips more firmly, and pulled him down harder on his next stroke upwards. Izaya’s body bowed _beautifully,_ and Shizuo was absolutely _losing_ himself in the sensation. Izaya was pouring such _beautiful_ music over Shizuo’s ears, bathing him in sounds that Shizuo hadn’t heard in three years and yet remember _perfectly._ Shizuo wanted to break the rule he had silently made, he wanted to take Izaya to his bedroom, but that would make this all so much more intimate. _It would make it so much harder to let go later._ Instead Shizuo paused a moment, and Izaya was already on the same track of thought, Shizuo supported Izaya as he brought his legs higher, hiking them up over Shizuo’s shoulder so he could penetrate deeper, harder, surer, _stabbing directly at Izaya’s prostate._ Shizuo picked a hard pace for a little while, quenching the desire growing in his gut, trying desperately to silence the sounds of his pleasure against Izaya’s calve so he could hear Izaya better. _It didn’t help that Izaya was rolling his hips in counter-point to Shizuo._ Shizuo was forced to slow his pace, to take his time, because he _needed_ to remember this later.

He couldn’t help it, the feelings, the physical sensation, the hurt, the affection, the love, the anguish, _all of it was too much._ Shizuo had brought Izaya’s legs back down and shifted them until he could fuck Izaya into the sofa. The pale length of Izaya was wrapped around Shizuo like a python would coil around its prey. _It was so fucking comfortable though._ Shizuo kept any one night stands impersonal, never facing each other, and _fuck_ he had missed this so much. _Missed the connection, the contact, the **intimacy**. _Every rock of Izaya’s hips below him felt like an apology, and Izaya’s eyes were burning with a familiar fire, the white one that had scorched Shizuo years before, that _still_ burned him _._ Pure and brilliant, that white fire consumed Shizuo, and his orgasm hit him so quickly his world exploded behind his eyelids. Izaya stilled his hips raising and his body bowing so deeply Shizuo worried he might have hurt himself, and a hot splash against Shizuo’s abdomen told him that Izaya had fallen apart with him.

They sat there for some time trying to catch their breath and Shizuo slipped slowly from the clutch of Izaya’s body slowly as he raised them until Izaya was settled in his lap again. A few moments longer were spent petting each other, soft touches, hesitant, exploratory. Shizuo knew Izaya’s body inside and out— _no pun intended—_ but this all felt new and different. Izaya felt different. He was slumped into the strength of Shizuo’s body, and his breath was puffing hotly against Shizuo’s pulse point as his fingers drew absentminded patterns on Shizuo’s shoulder. Shizuo felt whole for a little while as the afterglow hit him and Izaya’s clingy side came out to play. Izaya was always clingy after sex, liked being held and cuddled right after, touched gently, _soothed_ even if the sex was careful. Shizuo realized that he hadn’t even needed to _think_ about being careful with Izaya. Besides the hickeys forming on his throat, not a bruise or scratch was in sight. Normally, Shizuo would have to be hyper aware of how hard he was touching his partner— _he’d never needed to do that with Izaya._ Before he could begin to panic, Izaya’s voice was hitting his ears like the answer to a silent prayer.

“I shouldn’t have been stupid enough to let you walk out that door without a fight. For the first few days I thought you just needed time to cool off. It was a week later that I realized you’d left your keys and I _still_ thought you’d come back. I waited a year, before I couldn’t live there anymore. I spent the next one trying to pretend that _you_ had made a mistake in leaving, and the last one—all I could think about was that I should have said _no._ I shouldn’t have even considered the job at all.”

 _“Why did you then?”_ Izaya raised his head to fix his eyes on Shizuo’s face. His resolve was breaking again, and for a few horrible minutes as Izaya stared him down, he thought he might just ask Izaya to _stay._ Izaya shifted around a moment afterwards, seeking out his clothes. Izaya’s jeans were close by, and he never left Shizuo’s grasp as he reached for them and dug around in the pockets. He clutched something tightly in his hand and pressed closer to Shizuo.

“Money was— _tight_ —after I bought these, and we weren’t going to make rent if I didn’t do something. We were six weeks away from our third anniversary, and I knew what I wanted.” Izaya opened his hand and showed Shizuo a small black box, the velvet on the outside worn away in some places, as though Izaya often palmed the box, the oils from his hands ruining the finish. Shizuo hesitated to reach for it, feeling apprehension twist in his gut. _It didn’t excuse it, but Shizuo did want to see what was inside._ He let go of Izaya’s hip and reached to finger the box open. Two black rings were nestled inside, polished and taken care of, each the right size for Shizuo and Izaya respectfully. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he couldn’t comprehend the feeling. _It was bittersweet._ The gift, the implication, the unsaid proposal Izaya had just given him, none of it could excuse what he had done, but it was making Shizuo hurt.

“Even if you don’t mean it, I need you to call me what you used to, and I need you to say yes, and after that I can— _I can leave you alone._ I can go back to trying to pretend I’m okay again.” Izaya was looking at Shizuo like his heart was breaking, tears forming at the edges of his eyes, and in an effort to prevent his own heart from shattering completely— _who was Shizuo kidding, it was already pulverized—_ Shizuo nodded his head. Izaya took a shaky inhale that sounded like it hurt before nodding his head minutely, as if confirming for himself that this was happening. He cleared his throat, and Shizuo couldn’t take his eyes off Izaya’s face as he spoke.

 _“Atsushi,_ I know I’m not the best at telling you how I feel, and I don’t think I ever will be, but I know what I feel for you. That day I brought your bag to you, I had dug through it beforehand. I’m not sorry, because I found a beat-up cue card with a note written on it from your dad. The thing I remember most clearly is that it said you needed to find someone you wanted to kiss bloody, and then love gently. I feel that way with you, and I always have, since the first time. I know it isn’t legal here, and that it’ll take time to do it elsewhere, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you. The only way you can make me happier than I already am, is if you _marry me. Atsushi?”_

He had expected a proposal, he hadn’t expected Izaya to say something like _that._ Hadn’t expected Izaya to look so _earnest_ either. His eyes were glowing brightly, though the color was a shadow of the crimson Shizuo had loved. He was wearing a smile, soft, warm, wonderful—if not a little shaky—and the fingers wrapped at Shizuo’s neck were pulling gently at the ends of his hair. Shizuo was tearing up, and had Izaya not fucked up, he would have said yes in a heartbeat, his mind flying to the fact that he had dual citizenship. _France didn’t have laws against same sex marriage._ Now though, as open and honest as he had been, Shizuo would only be saying yes because he promised he would. He swallowed his misery, stroked his fingers gently at Izaya’s waist, watching as he shimmed away from the tickling touch. _Shizuo had liked watching Izaya squirm._ Shizuo took another moment, trying to think of what he would have said had things been different.

 _“I could hardly say no to you, Yukihiko._ I love you—and I always will.” Shizuo dropped his head to Izaya’s shoulder as he tightened his fingers and closed the box. _That’s what he would have said._ Izaya let out a shuddering breath, and after a tense few moments of labored breathing, Izaya shifted out of Shizuo’s grasp and moved to pick up his clothes. He dressed just as quickly as he had stripped, and after pulling his shoes and coat on, he hesitated at the door. He turned back around, and offered a broken smile, Shizuo thought he had never seen Izaya look so human.

 _“Thank you.” Then he was gone._ Shizuo went and showered, and after cleaning up the dishes and tidying the mess in the living room, Shizuo found that Izaya had left the velvet box on the couch. He picked it up, and idly thought about throwing it away, ended up carrying it into his bedroom. He lay on the mattress in the exact spot Izaya had curled into when he had slept there earlier, ran his fingers across the rings, eyes heavy with unshed tears, anxiety, hurt, _grief_ coiling tightly in his chest. _How did it end up like this?_

_Oh yeah. Izaya cheated._

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 is up. I wrote this instead of working on a paper that is now due in less than twelve hours. I'm a moron. This one kind of hurt, and I now Izay seems a little OC, but honestly, if you break down his inner psyche (not the alter-ego) and that enormous God complex, I feel like he'd really crack under the pressure of someone he genuinely cared for walking away. Let me know how I did. I'm thinking of adding at least one more installment. Maybe two, it'll depend on where the next part goes. 
> 
> Leave a kudos, leave a comment, but I always prefer more detailed feedback and suggestions. I take requests too! 
> 
> Hit me here: sin.menaceinc@gmail.com


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